


Ice cream for the heart

by toutcequonveut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aromantic Astoria Greengrass, Chinese Pansy Parkinson, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Humor, Ice Cream, Ice Cream Parlors, Innuendo, M/M, One Shot, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24182788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toutcequonveut/pseuds/toutcequonveut
Summary: Draco looks down into his cup, then back up into the smirking face of Ronald Weasley. “Weaselby,” he grinds out quietly, mindful of the children giggling raucously nearby as they slurp on their own cones. “I realize that the art of understanding spoken language may be beyond your capabilities, but this isnotwhat I ordered.”“On the contrary! I believe this is exactly what you want.” Weasley reaches over the counter and jabs a finger at the cup as he begins to list: “Extra dark chocolate mocha reminiscent of the shaggy hair you dream about, with a gentle kick of cayenne because Iknowyou want some spice in your life. Topped with my new range of lightning sprinkles! They buzz when they touch your tongue!” Weasley winks with this last statement, as if he’s said something relatable, or amusing, or literallyanything besides infuriatingly annoying, which he is.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 23
Kudos: 144





	Ice cream for the heart

**Author's Note:**

> I got inspired to write something short and sweet, so here we are! Enjoy!

“Here you go!”

Draco looks down into his cup, then back up into the smirking face of Ronald Weasley. “Weaselby,” he grinds out quietly, mindful of the children giggling raucously nearby as they slurp on their own cones. “I realize that the art of understanding spoken language may be beyond your capabilities, but this is _not_ what I ordered.”

“On the contrary! I believe this is exactly what you want.” Weasley reaches over the counter and jabs a finger at the cup as he begins to list: “Extra dark chocolate mocha reminiscent of the shaggy hair you dream about, with a gentle kick of cayenne because I _know_ you want some spice in your life. Topped with my new range of lightning sprinkles! They buzz when they touch your tongue!” Weasley winks with this last statement, as if he’s said something relatable, or amusing, or literally _anything besides infuriatingly annoying, which he is._

Draco ignores the very small part of his mind that is yelling that Weasley is also absolutely correct.

Not wanting to kick up a fuss when he has two very impressionable adolescents with him who are also as discreet as a sieve, Draco pays for the three ice creams in bitter silence.

“Faaaather, aren’t you going to say thank you? You always tell _me_ to say thank you!” Scorpius pipes up. 

Draco makes a mental note to begin instructing Scorpius on the ways of petty revenge. Then he scraps those plans because it’s more important to him that Scorpius grow up to become a polite and well-mannered child and not a spoiled brat like he himself had been.

“Thank you for the ice cream,” Draco mutters.

“Faaaaaaaaaaather, you mumbled! You’re always reminding me to speak clearly and proudly!”

Weasley looks like a drunk squirrel as he tries to hold in his laughter. Draco longs for the excuse of puberty so he can cast a Stinging Hex, but instead he has to set _good examples_ because he is an _adult_. “Thank you for the ice cream.” He articulates each syllable with crystalline precision.

The bells above the door jangle cheerily. “Al, are you finished yet? Lilu said she wouldn’t budge from Quality Quidditch for the next hour, so I left her there with your Uncle Lee.”

“Nope! We just ordered,” answered Al Potter, best friend to one Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy and son of the bane of Draco’s existence.

“Yes, and now that you are here, I believe I shall take my leave. I suddenly remembered I have an urgent need to be at Flourish and Blotts. I expect to find my son in one piece when I return” Draco says, and flees.

“But Flourish and Blotts doesn’t allow food inside…” he hears Potter say before the door snaps shut. 

He tries a bite of his botched ice cream order as he strides briskly down the brick pathways. 

It’s good.

* * *

Draco laments the day he decided to let his son convince him to try the new shop on Diagon Alley. It’s where old Fortescue’s used to be, and the Quibbler food column has nothing but raving reviews for it. _The desserts are both innovative and timeless_ , writes the columnist, _and one cannot help but plan a second trip before having even finished the first bite._

Scorpius had developed his ice cream addiction in the womb, or so Draco presumes when he watches Astoria’s and Scorpius’s eyes fill with Crup-like delight every time they order whatever icy, creamy dessert is on the menu of the restaurants they patron during their planned visitations. Astoria’s cravings during the pregnancy had been nothing but ice cream with rather… odd combinations of toppings. After she had given birth, she had retained some of those preferences. Draco is relieved that Scorpius at least seems to prefer traditional flavors that do not require him to make an impromptu trip to Vietnam for a specific kind of pickled eggplant. 

So he had folded easily to Scorpius’s begging, and the next Saturday found Scorpius and himself on the doorstep of Swirl and Twirl. There’s a mascot of a snow creature with soft serve hair and a wafer poked jauntily into it dancing on the door. Hopping from foot to foot in excitement, Scorpius pushes the door open, and Draco’s heart stops.

Because _Weasley_ is standing behind the counter, and not only that, he is currently handing a cone to a child who can only belong to the shaggy-haired man of Draco’s dreams standing next to him. Before he can begin to plan his escape, Scorpius is running forward to plaster his face against the displayed ice creams. Draco is obliged to prevent the hygiene disaster that would result and calls out, “Scorpius! Calm yourself, the ice cream will not disappear if you look at it from back here.”

That, of course, has the unfortunate consequence of Potter turning around and _looking_ at Draco with those unfairly green eyes of his. Draco had always wanted to have green eyes. When he was nine years old he’d had to be taken to the Healer because he had given himself pinkeye in attempting to magic his eyes green. He could stare into Potter’s green eyes all day.

“Father! They have green tea ice cream! And durian! Father, there’s _never_ durian at the other shops! We have to come here again!” yells Scorpius, completely unconcerned with the complete breakdown his father is having.

“You like durian too?” the Potter child asks with wide eyes. “No one else in my family does.”

“I _love_ durian,” Scorpius declares proudly despite only having tried it once before. It had been an impressionable time though, at a Muggle restaurant Astoria had wanted to try. At the end of the meal, one of the servers had brought them a plate of various tropical fruits. Draco had had a feeling that his narrow palate had been a bit too obvious and the waiters just wanted to watch him squirm, but Scorpius had happily eaten each of the fruits and then begged for more. Personally, Draco thinks durian smells like rotten shoes, but he’s happy to oblige his son on things that are not ice cream. 

He returns from his musing in time to hear the Potter child say, “Want to try a bite of mine? It’s Thai tea vanilla swirl with chocolate sprinkles!”

“Al!” Potter yelps. “Ron can give Malfoy’s kid a free sample. Why don’t we head to the Quidditch store next? Lilu’s been waiting patiently.” He indicates the child on Potter’s other side who looks incredibly bored but has perked up at the mention of Quidditch.

“But I don’t _wanna_ go to the Quidditch store, it’s _boring_!” Al whines. “Can’t I just stay here with Uncle Ron?”

“Sure,” Weasley agrees easily. “Go on ahead Harry, let Lilu have her fun. I’ll make sure no funny business happens here.” 

Draco isn’t sure if he imagines the look of scrutiny Weasley gives him, but he’s certain that Potter gives him a thorough one before thanking Weasley and exiting the shop. There’s a brief moment of silence, then Scorpius asks, “Will you show me the ice cream flavors?”

The two scamper off to the glass display cases, and Draco resigns himself to the fate that his son will befriend a Potter. Scorpius is usually quite shy around other children, but with the inclusion of ice cream, it seems that all the “usuallys” have gone out the window. He walks up to the counter at a more sedate pace to peruse his options.

Five minutes later, Scorpius gets a scoop of durian (of course) and Draco has ordered a lemon sorbet. They sit at a table, where Al joins them and continues talking about all the kinds of flavors of ice cream his Uncle Ron makes. That’s when Draco tastes the white frozen concoction before him and freezes himself.

Because this is not lemon. It’s _peach_. Is Weasley messing with him or something?

 _It could be a simple mistake,_ he reminds himself. _At the same time, it_ is _Weasley._ He stands and walks up to the counter, being sure to keep the kids in his line of sight. In as polite a voice as he has ever used to someone with that particular shade of red hair, he states, “Weasley, you seem to have made a mistake. I ordered a lemon sorbet, but this is peach.”

“Oh?” Weasley asks, his face full of feigned friendliness. “I could have sworn you wanted peach, the way you were staring at Harry’s arse earlier.”

Instantly, Draco’s face reddens. He hadn’t been _that_ obvious had he? Once he had torn his eyes away from Potter’s eyes, his gaze had naturally sunk to where his brain always travels when thinking of Potter, and it isn’t his lightning scar. Belatedly, he remembers that he should be denying the accusation. “I wasn’t staring!” he squawks, but in his mind he already knows that it’s too late to sound genuine.

“Ha! I knew it!” Weasley crows. “Oh Merlin, I can’t _wait_ to tell Pansy about this. She’ll be so mad that I got proof before she did!”

Merlin and Morgana. Draco had never stopped to consider the influence that his best friend would have on her two Gryffindor fuckbuddies when she started dating the both of them four years ago. Is this what devious Gryffindors are like? He would like to have exactly zero interactions with them in the future, thanks.

“If you really want lemon, I’ll get you lemon, but you should try the peach. Who knows, it might solve that major case of pining you’ve got. Hmmmm I wonder if I could incorporate pine nuts into ice cream?”

 _Exactly_ zero.

* * *

Since that day in September , Scorpius has managed to convince Draco to take him to Swirl and Twirl six more times. Each instance, he meets Potter there, because their two kids had begun owling each other and arranging to meet up at the ice cream shop. Draco is not one to deny his child happiness even if he wants to hide in a hole every time Potter’s eyes are on him, so he agrees every time. Potter, for his part, also seems to have come to the same conclusion because he is there every week at the appointed hour. The two fathers usually end up eyeing each other in awkward silence while their children chatter. Occasionally, one or the other of them will try to make small talk, but it usually lapses quickly. Draco, in an attempt at self-preservation, has taken to doing anything he can to avoid staring dreamily into Potter’s eyes and frequently stares at his chest instead. This isn’t much of an improvement, but at least it’s not quite as obvious.

After the mocha cayenne with lightning sprinkles week (so what if Draco can track time based on the ice cream flavor he’d been handed? It works!), Lilu had insisted to be left at Quality Quidditch Supplies from the start. It turns out that she doesn’t like ice cream at all (“She thinks food being cold is morally wrong,” Al explains through a mouthful of strawberry cheesecake ice cream. Scorpius gasps on horrified offense and swears that he will start a campaign to convince her of the virtues of frozen delights), so more often than not it’s just the four of them in the shop. 

And Weasley, who has taken it upon himself to give Draco an incorrect, suggestive order _every_ time. Last week, he’d handed Draco a cup of green tea ice cream with wedges of strawberries arranged to look like parted lips. The whole thing had been drizzled with condensed milk that looked obscenely like cum. Draco had eaten a large bite very fast before either Scorpius or Al could see it and then had clutched his temples in agony as he was hit with brainfreeze. 

He should really write to that food columnist in the Quibbler with a complaint, but he doesn’t want that kind of publicity and besides, the flavors he gets instead are actually still very good. Draco may not share his son’s or his son’s mother’s dedication to ice cream, but he is a connoisseur of all things decadent, and much as it pains him to say it, Weasley’s ice creams easily qualify. 

Part of it may be the flavors he’d never seen at Fortescue’s or other parlors in the past. He suspects that Pansy is the source. She had grown up in Shanghai with her father’s family, and Draco knows that she’d missed the food dearly after her mother decided she would attend Hogwarts. He wouldn’t be surprised if her tastes had rubbed off on Weasley and Granger both, especially after she had birthed their first child, Rose. Pansy would certainly want her daughter to grow up with the same comforting flavors she had, and she also has a way of making sure her desires are appeased. Case in point: convincing both the two Gryffindors she’d had an embarrassing case of lust on to date her. From what Draco understands, the two of them had been on the verge of a nasty breakup due to Granger’s then-newly discovered sexual preference for women but continuing romantic attraction to Weasley. Pansy somehow slots perfectly between them, holding together a fragile balance that otherwise would have toppled into a flaming pile of rubble.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Pansy and Granger step through the doorway of the ice cream shop. “Aunt Hermione! Aunt Pansy!” Al shouts in delight. He runs up and gives both of them a hug, which they return. Scorpius is next, smiling shyly up at Pansy as she swoops down to kiss his forehead. Her sharp gaze then turns to Draco and turns sly. “Are you enjoying your ice cream, dears?” she asks, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Amidst the kids’ exuberant replies, Draco glances down into his cup and yes, his unasked-for cup of black sesame and chocolate hazelnut with crushed green tea biscuit bits and those accursedly addictive lightning sprinkles still very clearly resembles the famed Potter color scheme. He blushes, but there’s no point in trying to hide from Pansy, so he simply answers, “It’s... adequate.” 

“Oi!” Weasley calls out from behind the counter. “Why haven’t I got my kisses yet? And where’s my little girl?” 

Hearing her father’s voice, Rose Granger-Parkinson-Weasley (a name that had sparked many a debate before Draco had suggested just putting them in alphabet order) peeks out from behind Granger’s robes. Weasley comes out from behind the counter and spreads his arms wide for a hug, and the little girl flies in as if she hasn’t seen him in decades. 

It’s all very touching and sweet, so much so that Draco, like the bitter bachelor he is, uses the distraction as his opportunity to sneak off to the loo. 

He isn’t unhappy, in fact the inclusion of Scorpius in his life makes him happier than he could ever express. But maybe a small part of him longs for the camaraderie the three of them share. Maybe a part of him wishes that Astoria had wanted the same thing he had. Before they had even started dating, though, she had told him that she was aromantic but wanted a child. Draco had agreed, not realizing how lonely he would feel ten years later. He doesn’t blame Astoria though, could never blame her, because she had told him up front about herself. It’s not her fault that he didn’t know himself half as well as she did. And he also knows himself well enough to say that his silly crush- _thing_ with Potter goes back to Hogwarts and a time that guarantees the other man will never feel the same about him. Draco’s never going to do anything about it, obviously. There’s no way Potter would ever like him back after all their history, and ever since the mistake with Astoria he’s not in the habit of putting himself at risk of heartbreak. 

After he’s managed to calm himself down, he steps out of the loo to find that Potter has returned from Quality Quidditch Supplies and is now chatting amiably with Pansy and Granger. Draco wonders if it would be suitably adult-y to cast a Disillusionment Charm and sneak past them. Unfortunately, his decision is made for him when Potter catches sight of him. “Malfoy!” he greets, waving around Draco’s cup of ice cream. “You left your ice cream over here. I cast a Preservation Charm on it, but it got a bit melted.”

Draco takes the proffered cup and looks inside. The ice cream has melted enough that the mix of favors has formed an unattractive slushy of grayish mud. Some of the sprinkles are still sparking weakly, but the crushed biscuits look like they’ve lost all their crunch and are naught but sad, soggy bits now. It’s one of the most pitiful sights Draco’s ever seen and only exacerbates his despondent mood. 

“I appreciate the thought, Potter, but I won’t be needing this.” He Banishes the cup. “I trust you can entertain each other? I’ll be back in a half hour or so.” With that said, he turns away, missing the look of disappointment on Potter’s face.

* * *

The next time he finds himself at Swirl and Twirl, Potter is already there, which is new. Usually, he’s running behind and sends Al on ahead to Floo into the Leaky Cauldron and walk over while he takes his daughter to the Quidditch shop. Draco has no idea how the girl can spend so much time there week after week. Oh! That’s a good conversation starter! He can use that to get through what’s sure to be another awkward hour while Scorpius and Al enjoy each others’ company. 

He walks up to the counter, grading and anticipation of what hell he’s going to subject Weasley to. These days, he usually orders a disgusting combination of the day’s flavors. Weasley’s face as he imagines the suggested mishmash gives him a small bit of satisfaction, but he’s just going to get him back anyway by giving Draco whatever the fuck he’s decided will be suitably mortifying anyway so it’s not like Draco will ever actually have to _taste_ what he orders.

Weasley outdoes himself today though.

While Scorpius scampers off to enjoy his mango ice cream with Al, Weasley presents Draco with a cup of cherries jubilee with two creme-filled wafers jabbed through a hollowed maraschino cherry and a dollop of whipped cream on top. It’s humiliating but also, and he hates to admit this, maybe the _teensiest_ bit arousing. Draco knows he needs to get laid soon if food-based obscenities are making his cock twitch with interest. 

Instead of just smirking knowingly at Draco’s befuddlement, Weasley leans forward and whispers, “Don’t botch this, okay?” He steps out from behind the counter and says something to the two children who cheer, and the three of them disappear into the kitchen in the back.

“Huh, that looks interesting.”

Potter’s voice at Draco’s ear nearly startles him into dropping the cup. He settles for whirling around to confront Potter. Before he can say a word, though, Potter is ducking to get a closer look at his ice cream.

“Quit it Malfoy, I’m trying to look at your ice cream.”

Draco only tries even more panickedly to reclaim his cup from Potter’s hands.

The man dodges easily, then surprises Draco by grabbing him around the middle and leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Kind of looks like an arsehole don’t you think? Getting a nice fucking? With a creamy finish.” 

Draco is fairly sure his face is redder than the watermelon sorbet. “I— what— huh?” he articulates smoothly. 

“I don’t know about you Malfoy, but I’d be quite interested in recreating this with you. Preferably in a soft bed, after we’ve come back from the dinner I’d like to take you to tomorrow night, if you’re available?”

Only after dropping these two bombshells (Potter is interested?? In having sex with and _dating_ Draco??) does Potter step back and give him space. Draco’s brain is whirling both with the new information and also because all of his blood seems to have abandoned his brain and fled south. 

“I’ll have to… think about it,” he finally whispers. “Before I answer you, I want to know: why now? Are you seriously interested in me?”

Potter raises both eyebrows at him. “Are you serious? You’ve been sitting across from me for months while I try to eyefuck you and you’re asking if I’m interested in you?”

Draco is gaping like a fish now. “You’ve been _what_?” he squeaks. 

“Did you seriously not notice?” Potter hisses back. “I thought I was humiliating myself with how obvious I’ve been!”

“I… no,” Draco replies. 

“Is that a no on the date then?” Potter asks quietly.

“No, what I mean to say is, I didn’t notice. I do have another question though.” Potter leans forward eagerly. Draco has to step back because this is all rather overwhelming. “Are you interested in anything beyond a quick tumble in the sheets? Because I’m specifically hoping for a life partner, not just a sexual one, and I don’t want to start anything without that possibility.”

“Malfoy,” Potter smiles softly. “You’re a damn fantastic father. Even when our kids first became friends and I was still wary around you, I knew that. It’s what caught my eye, even more so than the fact that you’re still very easy on the eyes. I can’t say anything about lifelong, but I’d be happy to find out how far we make it.”

And Draco, Draco has been hoping to hear that from Potter for so long. He casts a Stinging Hex on himself to be sure he isn’t dreaming, and then with a tingling arm, he leans forward and answers Potter with shining eyes, _”Let’s find out, then.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Comment which ice cream sounded best to you? 👀


End file.
